Dreamwalker

King's Landing, Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast.

This square fortress at the heart of the Red Keep wore twelve-foot-thick walls and a dry moat lined with iron spikes as armor, guarding itself securely at the very center of the Red Keep. Named after Maegor I, the "Tyrant" of old, this fortress served as the residence of the king and royal family.

The night was just right.

Outside the rooms of the princes and princesses, Aegon, the eldest son of Viserys I and Queen Alicent—hereafter referred to as Great Aegon to distinguish him from Princess Rhaenyra's son Aegon—sat quietly by the window, his face flushed. The young man had beautiful shoulder-length silver hair and was quite handsome, but he seemed rather too fond of drink. Several empty wine jugs already sat on the table before him, while Great Aegon continued to swirl the silvery liquor in his cup. His pale violet eyes watched the moonlight beyond the window. They lacked the cloudiness of an ordinary drunkard and instead remained remarkably clear.

"Aegon, what are you doing?" A woman's voice came from the other end of the corridor, incredulous yet carrying a trace of relief. Great Aegon hastily withdrew his gaze, downed a mouthful of fine wine, and collapsed into his chair.

Queen Alicent rushed over in fury. Seeing her son sprawled in the chair, reeking of alcohol, she was about to say something when she glanced at the tightly shut door behind him. She drew a deep breath, shot her son a fierce glare, and ultimately said nothing. With a sweep of her sleeve, she turned and left.

Only after his mother had gone far enough did Great Aegon, who had been pretending to sleep, climb out of his chair. No one knew what he was thinking.

At last, he grabbed the wine jug again and guzzled from it.

He did not even spare the door behind him a glance.

Inside the room, his newlywed wife, Helaena Targaryen, lay on the bed beside the fireplace, wrapped tightly in blankets. The hearth and brazier beside her were both burning, their flames flickering and faintly illuminating Princess Helaena's slightly round face.

The young girl slept soundly.

In her dream, Helaena seemed to become a happy little bird, flying freely through flames. Here, there was no mother nagging at her all day, no cold and distant grandfather Otto, no brother and husband Aegon, with whom she shared such a complicated relationship, and no gloomy younger brother Aemond.

She flew through the burning dream. Of course, from her perspective, there were no flames in this dream. Instead, it was filled with flowers, vines, and towering ancient trees. A kindly great bear bore the scales of a dragon. It wore a crown and watched the little bird flutter around it with a smile, while its body was firmly nailed in place by countless invisible longswords.

Worriedly, she looked at the Iron Throne piercing the great bear, then saw three stubborn chipmunks. One hopped about in a tree but could never approach the throne of swords. One raced madly toward the woods where a stag stood, only to be bitten by a one-eyed wolf and dragged into a pond. The last stood blankly amid the forest, unaware of the venomous snakes and ravens circling nearby.

The little bird tried to warn them, but gained nothing in the end. Regretfully, it could only be carried by the wind deep into the woods.

She saw a streak of crimson. The red stretched upward, darkening until it finally became a profound black. Before the little bird stood an enormous castle.

This was the third time she had seen this castle. The previous two times, the dream had ended at its gates. But this time, the castle gates stood wide open.

So she flew inside.

Blood—blood splattered everywhere. Venomous snakes had been severed into several pieces, vultures were pierced by spears, and a green dragon wailed amid flames.

"Ah!"

The girl covered her mouth amid a pool of blood. This was the first time she had dreamed of something so bloody.

"Girl, dragon, rogue, curse, life," the green dragon rolling in the flames roared loudly.

Then a silver dragon claw pressed it back into the fire.

The silver dragon slowly revealed its immense body from the sea of blood within the castle. It looked down upon the girl, who was hugging herself tightly. Not a trace of blood stained its body.

"This is the third time you have intruded upon my dream, Targaryen Dreamwalker. Has no one taught you that entering a mage's dream to peer into the future is dangerous? My..." The silver dragon paused in a remarkably human fashion. "Niece."

Helaena hurriedly searched her memories before confirming whom the silver dragon before her might represent. Lonzel Varezes, the new cousin who had visited them some time ago—an uncle only a few years older than herself. When he arrived in King's Landing, he had ridden Vomysor, the second-largest dragon alive. That day, when Vhagar and Vomysor danced through the sky, the old folk of King's Landing had even said it was as though they had seen two Balerions dancing in the heavens. Lonzel and his two younger brothers had all been handsome and courteous when they came to court. They had given Great Aegon several chests of fine wine and just as many chests of jewels, given her several chests of books, silk, and brocade, and prepared jewels, weapons, and books for Aemond and the young prince Daeron in the south.

Helaena thought they were quite nice. But she did not know what a mage was. She only knew that certain symbolic things from her dreams would become reality not long afterward.

"I am very sorry, Uncle Lonzel." Helaena hurriedly lifted the hem of her skirt and gave the silver dragon a slight curtsy. "I do not know what a Dreamwalker is, nor do I understand the other things you mentioned. If I have disturbed you, I am very sorry."

The dragon slowly lowered its head. "Have the Targaryens truly discarded magical knowledge to this extent? Your ancestors relied on the gift of Dreamwalkers to escape the Doom. How many once-great Dragonlord families could only dream of such a thing? Yet you place so little value on a new Dreamwalker. What a waste."

The dragon stretched out its neck, passed around the girl, then withdrew it again. "If you do not wish to have such strange dreams, sleep somewhere cooler. If you wish to master this ability, hmph." The silver dragon snorted, but continued nonetheless. "You may also continue connecting to my dreams in this manner."

"If you can withstand the magical backlash within the dream of a blood mage and Dragonrider."

Only then did Helaena discover that her body was covered in blood. An invisible force instantly hurled her out of the castle, and the once-lush forest suddenly began to burn.

"Puff, puff, puff, puff."

Helaena woke from her dream drenched in sweat. Seeing that no one was beside her, she decisively extinguished the brazier and fireplace by her bed, then hugged her blankets tightly.

She seemed to be considering something.

The silver dragon remained within the dream, looking at the open castle gates. The gates slowly closed. A face suddenly twisted into shape on the bone-white wooden doors, and scarlet tears slowly flowed from where its eyes should have been, yet could only remain upon the face.

The face silently watched the silver dragon.

"Variable." The face suddenly spoke in a muffled, indistinct voice, yet Lonzel could hear it clearly. "You are an outsider variable."

"The Old Gods of Westeros?" Lonzel recognized this reckless intruder that had likewise entered his dream.

The face did not answer. "When the time is right, we will meet again. I hope you remember your mission."

The face and the dream receded together like a tide.

Lonzel opened his eyes. His new squire, Prince Jacaerys, was cleaning his Valyrian steel armor, Dragonrider, with sand, his face full of envy.

"Brother, Lord Dondarrion has arrived. We can set off now."

Valar, fully armed, pushed open the door and shouted.

First check-in. Three updates today. Yesterday, pus kept draining all day. The feeling of my arm gradually being able to move again and my body gradually relaxing was truly wonderful.